I've been thinking about updating my blog for a couple of weeks, but I've been struggling with a topic to cover. I've did plenty of regular updates regarding chemo, radiation, and the basics on what to expect while going through various treatments. Having reached the end of that journey, I'm left with the emotional fallout that's left. I wasn't even sure what I was going to blog about tonight when I logged in, but I knew it would come to me as I began typing and letting my mind simply open up. Within moments, my topic became obvious. The emotional fallout after you've kicked cancer's butt. What's this mean? Read on to find out--from my point of view anyway.
Me and my daughter at Ohio University's Homecoming this past Saturday.
Prior to my diagnosis last year, I was a busy mom juggling three teenage children of my own, a full time career, a two-year marriage that was already struggling, and 2 step-children. Needless to say, I was busy and always on the go. But I also found time for happiness. I spent the majority of my time with my children and simply enjoying their company, watching them enjoy life, and trying to soak up as much time with them as I possibly could. For some reason, I had this overwhelming feeling to savor every moment I could get with them. To soak up every precious second they would allow me. After taking a small but memorable vacation with each of them individually that summer, I discovered I had breast cancer. I believe God inspired me to plan those individual trips with my children last summer. It was our time to recoup and prepare us for the fight we had ahead of us.
Finding out I had breast cancer was such an overwhelming and stressful time for me and my family. I tried so hard to stay strong and positive for my family, but the fear would grip me so tightly sometimes, I couldn't seem to break free of it's hold. I felt frozen and lost. My life became a flurry of doctor appointments, surgeries, treatments, more surgeries, and more treatments. I continued working full time while getting chemotherapy treatment through the end of December 2013. I was getting Taxol, and it was a little easier to manage. However, near the end of my 12 treatments, I could feel my body wearing down. It was becoming a daily struggle to appear normal. But, I kept fighting on.
Then I began AC treatment, and it truly knocked me on my butt. If I wasn't sick, I was sleeping. I was unable to go into my office at this point, so I worked from home. My life literally revolved around getting to appointments, sleeping, and trying not to feel awful. In between those moments, I would often find myself feeling as if I had been sucked into a dark, dark place I was trapped in. The perpetual storm had settled over my life, and it was following me everywhere I went. As hard as I had tried to smile through every second of my journey, I suddenly found myself at a low so low, I didn't know it existed until then.
While facing treatments, I watched my marriage fall to pieces. My husband either ignored me or was finding a reason to yell at me. I would find myself sitting and trying to figure out what I had done that was so bad to deserve not only cancer but to be treated this way during the worst period of my life. I prayed and begged God to save me. To help me get through the treatments and all the hurt in my life. Every day, I searched for answers and signs that God heard me, but I often felt like he didn't. I truly felt trapped in this dark life I hated.
As winter moved into spring, the leaves began to bloom, the grass began to grow, and signs of life began showing outside. And things began looking up in my life as well. I had completed chemo, and while I was facing my mastectomy, I had hope. My mastectomy wasn't an easy surgery, and it was very painful. I slept sitting up in a recliner on my couch for 2 months. I set reminders on my cell phone so I would know when to take my medications. My sister helped me bath daily until I was allowed to shower independently. I would look around, and it made me sad to realize how much I had faced in the past 6 months, and how little my husband had participated in. I was home alone during the day, and I was unable to cook for myself. So I often went hungry. Many people commented this summer that I had lost a lot of weight on chemo. I lost the majority of my weight after chemo was complete and while I was sitting at home recovering from a surgery unable to get food for myself. But, I survived it, and I came out on the other side just a little stronger. I had something else to focus on at this point. Expanders then implant swap. The treatments and surgeries seemed never ending. At this point, my husband chose to leave me. It was actually a relief so I could stop stressing about what his next action would be.
After I had my surgery to get my implants, I found great relief in how I felt. Expanders suck. While my breasts don't look quite as awesome as they did prior to breast cancer, they look good considering my circumstances. Not having nipples is quite a strange thing to see when I look at them, but I'm getting used to it. I'm strongly considering getting 3D nipple tattoos. I feel like they will help me to feel somewhat normal when I look in the mirror. They make help this blank canvas look a little less blank. After my reconstruction, I had 34 radiation treatments over the course of this summer. It was exhausting going to radiation every single day for five days. Yes, they only last 20 minutes at most, but it's still exhausting--especially when you've already been through so much.
I still have one more surgery to go. I have to get a complete hysterectomy since I am BRCA1 positive. I've been putting it off a little. I just don't want to feel like garbage again. I feel like I've been through so much in such a short period of time, and I just needed a break and to simply live my life for a little while. I know I have to do it soon though. I have to ensure I don't give cancer a head start anywhere in my body.
I've recapped all of this to give you an idea of how my treatments and surgeries have been back to back for the past year. It's been constant and non-stop. And what happens when you suddenly find yourself done with all your treatments (no more chemo or radiation), no more surgeries, no more breast cancer owning your life......
You learn to like your life as it is NOW. I've been referring to this as the emotional fallout. When your life isn't consumed with doing whatever is necessary to save your life and you're no longer focused on kicking cancer's ass, you realize you've spent so much time focused on this that you have to relearn how to focus your life. Emotionally, I catch myself feeling sad for the things cancer took from me. It took my hair (yes it's growing back, but I'm impatient, and I want my long girl hair back), it took my self esteem for a while, it destroyed my marriage (which was more of a blessing as I cannot be with someone who fails to be there for me "in sickness and in health"), and it made me lose a year of my life. As I'm getting back into my normal routine, I am constantly reminded of how I missed an entire year of my REAL life. Duties I would have normally managed at work, someone else did last year.
Emotionally, I feel like I look around and there are all these pieces of me all over the place. I keep picking them up and trying to decide which ones fit this new me I've found myself to be. I am happy and positive 99% of the time about my prognosis, but every once and a while, fear grips me. Or maybe it's one of those pieces I pick up occasionally to look at. Sometimes I allow myself a good cry but I pick myself back up and keep moving forward
Have you ever tried to put a puzzle together only to realize some of the puzzle pieces don't belong in the puzzle? Perhaps they were mixed in from another puzzle, but they simply don't fit. Sometimes, I feel like I find puzzle pieces that simply don't fit anymore. I set them aside just in case I find a new location for them, but the majority of the time, I stay focused on the ones that do fit and work. Breast cancer changes your life. When I look in the mirror, I do not see the same person I used to see. Both physically and what's inside. So much about me has changed. I have a new normal now. I've learned to accept and love who I am now. Therefore, I'm in the process of sorting out those puzzle pieces and deciding which ones fit this new normal and which ones don't.
The emotional fallout a patient is left to deal with can be tough, but it's an awesome opportunity to revaluate yourself and create a better you. A true chance to pick yourself back up piece by piece with an entirely new perspective on life and how simply precious it is. My time on this Earth is not promised, and I do not know what life or God has in store for me. But no one does really. I'm just a little more aware of it than others. Therefore, I look at each day as a new day I get to learn something new and perhaps put another piece of my puzzle together. Emotional fallout isn't easy, but it can help you build a better you. You're worth every effort you put into it, so handle with love, care, and devotion.
